


dream of love

by wonderboi



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sea Grunkles, Sibling Incest, young stans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wonderboi/pseuds/wonderboi
Summary: Ford finds Stan having a nightmare.
Relationships: Ford Pines/Stan Pines
Comments: 3
Kudos: 16





	dream of love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyheartstar13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyheartstar13/gifts).



> This is my gift for the _Stancest Valentines Gift Exchange!!_
> 
> Sky gave a few options, and I picked _'the brothers as old men on the Stan-of-war 2 sharing a bed and cuddling'._

Ford awoke in the middle of the night. He knew this because when he opened his eyes there was no change. With no light pollution from the mainland, night was pitch black. As his eyesight adjusted to the endless dark, he became aware of what woke him in the first place. 

Stanley. 

He was tossing and turning in his sleep. Ford slept light ever since the portal, and even though the sound of the ocean helped him rest easier, he still woke from any abnormal noises. With his eyes not yet fully adjusted to the lack of light, it looked like Stan was fighting his blanket. Stanford rolled out of bed. The floor creaked beneath him. 

"Stanley," he murmured. "Stanley, wake up." 

It was times like these that Ford's freakish hands felt extra clumsy. He knew how to use delicate machinery; his fingers could maneuver through their insides where only a misplaced wire would make a crater out of half the planet. 

But comforting someone..? These useless hands weren't made for that. 

"Stanley, you're dreaming," Ford said, louder, more urgent. 

Thankfully it was enough and Stan awoke with a gasp. He shuddered as oxygen filled his lungs and consciousness hit him like a brick in the face. 

"Mrph, Ford," Stan slurred, voice still heavy with sleep. "That you?" 

"Yes, it's me," Ford replied. His clunky hand moved to run its fingers through Stan's hair. Something tight inside of his chest relaxed itself as he watched Stan melt into his touch. Maybe these hands of his weren’t so bad, if they could make Stanley happy.

Stan’s voice was rough from disuse. “Don’t need t’ pet me. M’ not some spooked animal.”

“You seem to like it.”

“I’d like it more if you came here already,” Stan said, and he lifted the blanket to invite his brother in. 

Ford climbed in without protest. The space was tight. Each bed was really only made for one fully-grown adult. However, as all proper  _ Pines _ did, Stanley and Stanford enjoyed breaking the rules. They had to lay chest-to-chest in order for the blanket to protect them from the cold. Ford knew that his twin was pressed back up against the wall. 

“We’re remodeling as soon as we touch shore,” Ford declared, his distaste for the tight quarters a frequent topic of complaint. Stan only chuckled.

“You were th’ one who wanted two beds,” he pointed out.

“Yes, well…” Stanford said. “That was before…  _ this.” _

“Before you confessed your undying love for me.”

“As I remember it, you also did the same.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t.”

After that, things were quiet in the ship. Stanford could still hear gentle waves lapping at their boat and a quiet breeze caressing the portholes. So much time passed just enjoying the silence and his twin’s warmth that he believed Stanley to have fallen asleep. Until Stan spoke.

“Sorry for waking you up,” he said. They were both aware of how difficult it was for Ford to fall back asleep after waking up. Stan must have felt guilty.

“It’s alright, Stanley,” Stanford said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Stan said immediately. Then he let out a sigh. “Yes. Kinda.”

"You don't need to force yourself." 

"It was stupid." 

“Nothing you do is ever stupid, Stanley.”

“Really? I can think of a few things you've called stupid."

_ "Stanley…"  _

"It was you," Stan confessed. "And the kids. N' everyone. Mostly me. I never got my memories back, and just sat around like an invalid all day. You all got tired of me and left, one by one." 

"Oh… Sta--"

"I know, I know. ' _ But it didn't happen, Stan. It never would have happened. Blah blah blah' _ ." 

"Well. Good to know that I'm doing such a good job comforting you without opening my mouth," Ford joked, but his throat was too tight to sound as lighthearted as he wanted. He could feel Stan’s eyes on him even in the dark.

“I'm okay, Ford. It was just a dream," Stan said. "Are…  _ you  _ okay?" 

"Of course I am," Ford replied a bit too quickly. "Why wouldn't I be?" 

"I dunno. That's why I'm asking." 

Stanford tried to think of the right words. His stomach felt queasy and tight, and so did his throat. The only reprieve was the warm body pressed against his, holding him close. As if Stan could read his mind, he pulled him even closer, snug enough that the line between which twin was which seemed blurred. Ford sighed as he relaxed into it. 

"Do you remember when we were younger?" Stanford asked. "And I would have nightmares?" 

"Yeah. I used to climb into the top bunk t' comfort ya." 

"Those moments meant a lot to me. I only wish I could do the same for you." 

"Aw, ya big sap," Stan smiled in the dark. "You're doing it right now." 

"It doesn't feel like it…" Ford pouted. "Are you sure you're okay? Despite your nightmare?" 

"Yeah I'm sure," Stan kissed his twin's forehead. "I wake up to my wildest dreams every day - why would a lil nightmare bother me?" 

Ford flushed and hid his cheek in Stan's neck, who chuckled and coaxed him into a kiss. It was slow and sweet, nothing too wet or heated. Neither of them had the energy for that kind of thing in the middle of the night. Eventually it trickled into sleepy pecks as fatigue coaxed then back into the world of sleep. 

Ford dreamt, and remembered. 

_ He awoke, gasping and shaking and alone. The ceiling seemed so close, pressing down on him and restricting his breathing. Hot, wet globs of salty tears ran down his face and into his hair as he lay on his side, huddled against the wall. _

_ "Sixer?" came a small voice.  _

_ Ford looked to the side. A small face, almost identical to his own, peeked up from the ladder. White knuckles grasped onto the wood, nervous from the height but determined. Ford could only whimper.  _

_ Thankfully it was all he needed to do. His twin climbed the rest of the way into his bed and wriggled in behind him. Both of the boys were the same size, but Stanley felt so big and warm while spooning him.  _

_ "Bad dreams?" he asked.  _

_ "Y-Yeah…" Ford mumbled.  _

_ "Do ya wanna talk about it?"  _

_ In his nightmare, Stanley had made lots of friends in school. All of them were cooler and nicer looking than Ford. They coaxed Stanley away from him, told him not to play with Ford anymore. They went on adventures without Stanford, fixed up the boat, they did everything together. They stole Ford's spot in his brother's life and fit there even better than he did.  _

_ "No," Ford shook his head, ashamed and embarrassed by the dream.  _

_ Stanley hummed, then shrugged. “Okay. Whatever floats your boat.” He moved his arm so that he could wiggled his fingers into the clenched fists Ford had made. Stanford relaxed so that they could slip in and hold his hand. “I just want ya t’ be happy.” _

_ “Thank you, Stanley,” Ford said, his words layered with meaning. _

_ “Always, Sixer.” _

_ And both of them knew he meant it. _


End file.
